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2013.05.30 - Images of Divinity
A fine sunny New York afternoon, and Agent Coulson has some surprise time off. He's already gotten his errands checked off, buffing Lola, grocery shopping, picking up the dry cleaning all checked off his list and an hour or two ahead of schedule. He still has plenty of time to get in a brisk walk in his neighborhood. He doesn't get to spend much time, moving around all the time, but he does like to make an appearance when he can. He nods to one of his neighbors and heads up the street in the direction of Central Park. Then a gallery catches his eye. It's not what he's typically attracted to in art, but for no reason in particular he wanders into the Kapoor Gallery, a gallery that specializes in Indian and Himalayan art. He gets offered help from the lovely young Indian woman who is working the floor but he says that he's 'just looking' so she gives him room to look. The gallery is doing the "Images of Divinity" exhibit, and has many paintings, rugs and statues on display, from both Hindu and Tibetan influences. The paintings are mostly in the same vein, stylized two dimensional drawings and the statues are in brass, copper and stone. A trip to the Upper East Side is a novelty for Fern, but an errand for Anita had afforded her an actual reason to be in the neighborhood so far above her own means. With the package delivered (cannoli, of course), the young woman is taking her time, exploring a little bit before heading back home to Harlem. Knowing where she would be spending some time today, she even tried to dress the part, to the best of her estimation. Her usual jeans and t-shirt have been foregone in favor of a brightly patterned summer dress, and on her feet are her favorite sandals, that lace up her calves. Her step is light, and she offers smiles to others on the street. Very few are even noticed, but there's enough of a return rate to keep her spirits up. Making her way by a gallery, the work inside catches her eye through the doorway. She continues on a few steps before she stops, looking back toward the door. After a moment of consideration she turns, returning to the door, and slipping inside. She pauses, suddenly less able to see after the glare of the sun outside. In front of an piece titled "Uma-Maheshvara Alingnamurti", Agent Coulson naturally tracks the opening of the door. Can't help it after his training. There's something familiar about the silhouette and the way the person moves. Then the door closes, shutting out the afternoon light and letting the diffused lighting of the gallery show him more clearly who it is and a brief smile of recognition cross his his face. He decides to not notice Fern, and starts silently counting in his head to figure out how long it will be before she notices him. He leans forward slightly to peruse the sandstone sculpture of Shiva and Parvati seated on a throne and a lion, respectively. The same woman who is giving Agent Coulson time to browse approaches Fern, her smile pleasant, the softly spoken offer of assistance made to the young waitress. Despite being far out of her element, Fern returns the smile with grace and ease, at once assuming a persona. "Thank you," she says, her tone smooth. "I have a client that I think might be interested in some of your pieces. Would you mind if I looked around a bit?" The request is met with an affirmative response, and Fern's smile brightens a notch more. "Wonderful." She is especially cheerful that her ruse seems successful, and none of the intimidation she feels by the expensive air of the gallery is noticed. Turning away to peruse the works, blue eyes drift over the nearby Phil, then return immediately. Her smile takes more honest warmth, and she approaches with soft steps. "Excuse me? Don't I know you?" She knows very well he's a customer, but people tend to forget waitresses almost as soon as they leave a restaurant. Agent Coulson turns with well feigned surprise and blinks once or twice at Fern. "Hello! Of course I remember you. Roger of the Mounties... Anita Bella's. You waited on me and my business associate the other night." He glances back at the sculpture and then back to Fern. "It's nice to run into you outside of your work. Do you live around here?" Fern blushes lightly at mention of the godawful play, but she's still pleased to be remembered again. She shakes her head at the question, "No, I was just in the neighborhood. It's lovely though. Do you live nearby?" There's only a second pause before she extends one hand, offering a better introduction than her misspelled name tag at the restaurant affords. "Fern Fiddlehead, since we've never been properly introduced." Phil Coulson returns the handshake. "Phil Coulson. Pleased to actually meet you," he says, his handshake firm, but not too hard, his hands dry and cool. "I do, actually. I live a couple blocks from here. When I'm in the city at any rate." He gazes at the sculpture for a bit. "This sort of thing really isn't my style, but it's good to get a different perspective from time to time." He cocks his head to one side, then back straight again. "Are you working tonight?" he asks. There's nothing squishy about Fern's grip, although it is more delicate than Phil's, and her own hand is still warm from having been out in the bright day. "Likewise, Mr. Coulson," Fern responds brightly as her hands lightly clasp behind her back, and she too turns her attention to the sculpture. With a thoughtful frown, she seems to be considering the piece. "It's very well detailed," she offers, adding with her usual lack of guile, "I like the lion." He's familiar, knows she's a waitress, so she doesn't feel any need to be uncomfortable around him. Her head shakes again in the negative, "No, I have off tonight. I filled in for Jerry yesterday, so he's taking my night tonight." She assumes he'll know she's talking about one of the other waiters at the restaurant, so doesn't elaborate on that. Phil Coulson nods. "Ah well, Jerry's got to pay his rent too, I assume. I was just hoping to bring by a big art supporter to meet you. We'll have to settle for great food and the best cannoli in town, I suppose." He gives her a friendly nod of the head in the direction of the next sculpture. "This one is interesting." It's another sandstone piece, this one depicting Gajalakshmi, Ganesha and Kubera on a lotus throne. "I'm fond of Ganesha... Hindi's call him 'The Opener of Ways' if I'm recalling correctly. "The other night..." he starts to ask, then changes his mind. "No... never mind." Fern grins, offering, "He had an audition. He acts, too." Her brows lift and she looks disappointed now that she doesn't have to go in tonight. "Awww, I'll be sorry to miss you. If I hadn't already made plans I'd show up anyway," she quips, her smile back immediately. Her attention shifts easily to the next piece Phil nods toward. "Ganesha is the elephant, right?" She studies the piece, but looks toward Phil as he never-minds himself, again frowning lightly. "There was nothing wrong, was there?" Her concern is obvious, and she hurriedly tries to recall if she made any misstep during service for himself and his companion. Phil Coulson shakes his head. "No... No, not at all, it was just my curiosity getting the better of me." He nods to the statue. "Yes, the elephant headed man is Ganesha... The woman in the center is Gajalakshmi, I forget what she's the goddess of, and the round guy on the right is Kubera, god of Beer, I think." He leans forward and reads the description next to the piece. "Yes, god of Beer and revelry." Switching tracks back to his curiosity. "That young man who came in and walked up to you... was he a friend of yours?" He is, of course, referring to 157, now on SHIELD's radar. Fern is also a curious creature, but she decides not to push the issue, as long as it wasn't something displeasing about their meal. If she knew Phil better, she would have less mercy. There's a light giggle as Kubera is dubbed the god of Beer, and the young woman actually leans to see if it really says that. The inquiry about 157 has her attention immediately returned. "Hm... maybe not exactly a friend," she says, considering it. "But he's been in before. He's a nice kid." If rather... odd. Phil hmms quietly, agreeing with the subtext of odd. "He seemed a little... I don't know... off?" he offers. "Dinner was fine, the service was excellent. In a city like New York, If I don't like the service, I just don't go back, no matter how good the food is. I don't have time for nonsense." "I like this piece. If it wasn't seventeen grand, I'd consider getting it." He clasps his hands behind his back as he continues to chat as they look about the gallery. "I just ask because he seemed like one of those 'at risk' kids they're always talking about. I work with a lot of assistance groups." She doesn't seem inclined, at first, to give much more detail on 157. Fern is still going on the hunch that Phil is in finance in one way or another, and the boy's details aren't really hers to give. "He's very unique," she says, diplomatically. Again, her relief is plain, smile back. "I'm happy that you like Anita Bella, then. It's always nice to see you come through the door." She's not above having her favorite customers. Blue eyes widen slightly at the price, quickly hidden behind a clearing of her throat as she regains her composure. "That is a little bit steep." Steep as in, it would pay her rent for a year. Then her interest is well and truly piqued. "Assistance groups? What sort?" That does actually sound like something the boy needs. Assistance. Phil wanders on to the next statue. The sign next to it says "Chandrashekhara Shiva" and it's a two foot tall copper statuette of Shiva the Destroyer. "Well, the Maria Stark Foundation, for one..." he says, dropping one name. "He just struck me as someone having issues dealing with society. There are a variety of programs, as well as the State of New York." He doesn't try to force it, so he changes the subject. "I've been introducing those cannoli of Anita's to everyone I get get to try them." Fern's thoughtful expression could be just a consideration of the next piece they meander toward, but if the gears turning in her head actually did give off smoke someone would be calling the fire department to put her out. Thus, her reply about the cannoli is a slightly distracted, "Really? That's really nice of you, Mr. Coulson." She pauses, then looks back at the man directly. "I may be speaking out of turn to say so, but I think he could use some help." She pauses, then decides to go on. "He's kind of... special. I mean... I don't think he's from here." She's trying to get a message across without coming out and saying it. She has no idea if Phil is comfortable with all the oddities of the city, but the Stark Foundation.... well, Tony Stark is Iron Man, after all, surely then Phil knows... things. Phil Coulson turns toward Fern a little more. "There's also the USAAA, the US Autism and Aspberger's Association... I'm not a diagnostician, but his... condition... seems to be in their spectrum." He reaches up into his breast pocket and draws out a flat black and gold card case, and pulls out a plain white card that just says "Phil Coulson" and his cell number. "I don't want to put you on the spot here with this Fern, but I'd be more than willing to help you help the young man get the assistance he needs." He proffers the card. "That's my cell phone, and it's on 24/7." He holds the card halfway to her, wanting her to meet him half-way. There's no hesitation at the offer, and Fern reaches out to accept the card, looking at it immediately. The fact that there is so little on it is a bit intriguing; for a moment she had hoped her speculation might be confirmed with the name of some big deal finance company or something. Curious. She looks up, the light pinch of her face easing as she nods. "Don't be surprised when you hear from me." Not if. When. She'd like nothing more than to see that boy get some actual help. More than just meals from her whenever he's in the neighborhood. Phil Coulson smiles at Fern briefly. "You're a good person Fern. I think it's the right thing to do." He's about to lead her over to the miniature paintings but his cell phone goes off. "Pardon me," he says, fishing it out of his pocket. "Coulson. Go." he says into it, stepping a half step away from Fern. "I see. I'll be right there." He glances over to Fern apologetically. "I'm afraid we'll have to cut our gallery showing short, Fern. Duty calls..." he says, waving the phone and slipping it back into his pocket. "It was great running into you. Don't be a stranger," he says. And then, just like that, he's gone, the bell at the gallery front jingling a little on his exit. Category:Log